


For Today was Our Last Day (And Tomorrow May Be as Well)

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Decade | Masked Rider Decade
Genre: F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're all alive. Though there are still ghosts to lay to rest, that's more than enough cause for celebration.  Set after Movie War, the four deal with the emotional aftermath in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Today was Our Last Day (And Tomorrow May Be as Well)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SpringKink prompt "Kamen Rider Decade, Tsukasa/Natsumi/Yuusuke/Kaitou: Post-Rider Wars love-pile/foursome--The worlds were saved. Tsukasa was alive, and back with the others again as his usual self. For all of them, it was enough cause to celebrate."

It’s Yuusuke who kisses Tsukasa first, which surprises Kaitou a bit. Not that it should, on second thought. After all, Yuusuke was the one who jumped on Tsukasa about thirty seconds after they brought him back, and Yuusuke’s never been one to be shy about his feelings.

Even if those feelings are affection for a megalomaniacal, homicidal jackass who killed him about twelve hours ago.

Tsukasa blinks as Yuusuke breaks away from the kiss, and Kaitou can practically hear the gears spinning in both men’s heads as they figure out what they want to do. Spinning slower and with a kind of rusty sound in Yuusuke’s head, obviously, which is probably why it’s Tsukasa who comes to a decision first.

He pushes Yuusuke back slowly, inexorable step by inexorable step, a smirk on his face and a predatory gleam in his eye. Yuusuke’s breathing picks up, his gaze sharpening from something misty, happy and half-drunken to a battle-hard stare.

He’s frightened. He’s afraid of Tsukasa, afraid of what Tsukasa might do, and Kaitou takes another sip of his sake as he watches, drowning the bitterness that’s threatening to rise in the burn of alcohol.

Tsukasa’s smirk falls as he takes in the change in Yuusuke’s expression, and his hand is gentle when it rises to Yuusuke’s chest. Yuusuke stands in front of the couch, braced, ready, and Tsukasa’s hand rises to his cheek. “Trust me, Yuusuke?”

Just a slight delay, a bare second at most, but it’s enough to be noticeable before Yuusuke nods. “I do, Tsukasa.”

Tsukasa’s hand slides down to Yuusuke’s chest again, drifts around his back and pulls him in close. Bending down, Tsukasa claims Yuusuke’s mouth with his own.

Natsumi’s quiet as she comes up behind Tsukasa, and it’s hard for Kaitou to read the emotion on her face. Sorrow, a regret etched deep into her soul that hasn’t faded with the close of day; joy, simple and overwhelming; disbelief, maybe, that things actually worked out like this.

Possession, passion, and her hands slide along Tsukasa’s hips, back to front, before reaching even farther and snagging on the belt rings of Yuusuke’s jeans, pulling the three of them closer together. Pressing all of them tight against one another, no space between, and Kaitou can hear Yuusuke’s gasp and Tsukasa’s low growl as he turns his head to look at Natsumi.

“Yuusuke’s not the only one who loves you, you know.” Her voice isn’t petulant, isn’t wavering. Just a simple statement, and Tsukasa turns like a cat, fast and quick, though Kaitou almost snorts sake out his nose as Yuusuke ducks back as best as he can to avoid being elbowed in the face. Smooth, Tsukasa. Very smooth.

“I know.” Tsukasa’s hand drifts down her face, pushing hair away and raising her chin up. “Believe me, I know.”

“I’m glad… I’m really glad…” There are tears there now, and her hands release Yuusuke, clutch Tsukasa’s thin waist and hold on tight.

“Hush.” He kisses her forehead first, then below her eyes, before ending with a kiss on the mouth. Slow and steady, not deep and demanding, not as insistent and instigative as he had been with Yuusuke. Treating her like a girl, and Kaitou can’t help another snort of laughter.

They’re just about the same height, and Natsumi leans into the kiss, one hand going around to the small of Tsukasa’s back, one snaking around his head. Her grip is firm, fierce, and her fingers wind tight in Tsukasa’s hair, holding him in place. Keeping him here, keeping him with them, and Kaitou’s either had too much to drink or not enough.

Yuusuke smiles at the two of them, expression soft, accepting, but still maybe a little bit sad. He has to do a little hop onto the couch to back away from them, but he manages not to touch Tsukasa while putting a meter or more of distance between them.

“Yuusuke.”

They break away from the kiss at the same time, turning to the smaller man and whispering his name. Something twists hard, inside Kaitou’s chest, and he can’t breathe for a moment as he watches the damn idiot’s face light up in a smile.

Of course they want him. Who wouldn’t want him? Happy, heroic, able to forgive all trespasses with barely a flinch… too good to be true, that one, with only his hot temper keeping him from being a blessed saint.

They pull him into their circle, Tsukasa with his right hand, Natsumi with her left, and Natsumi kisses his lips while Tsukasa nibbles at his ear. After a few scant seconds Yuusuke relaxes, leaning against Tsukasa, eyes closing as he melts into Natsumi’s kiss.

Dark, light, and neutral, all huddled together, completing one another. All together, the way they’re supposed to be, and he’s definitely had too much to drink if he’s getting this maudlin about Tsukasa. Getting this maudlin about murderers and murderees, and it’s just stupid to trust each other like this after what they’ve been through.

Just stupid.

“Planning on just watching, Kaitou?” Tsukasa has his left hand tangled with Natsumi’s right, their fingers laced together but still moving.

Touching, touched, alive and whole, and Kaitou manages to yank his gaze away from that but it doesn’t help much, given that Tsukasa’s right hand is wrapped around Yuusuke’s waist now. His arm’s under Yuusuke’s jacket, only Yuusuke’s T-shirt separating them. Tsukasa’s fingers stroke a delicate rhythm, slow and steady, brushing along Yuusuke’s stomach, and Yuusuke’s growling, an excited, animalistic sound as he arches against Tsukasa’s hand, exposing more of his neck for Natsumi to kiss.

Predator smile back in place, oozing utter contentedness with the situation, Tsukasa raises an eyebrow at Kaitou.

“Daiki.” Natsumi lifts her head from Yuusuke’s body, giving him a smile. A true smile, honest and open and inviting. “You’re part of this, Daiki, if you want to be.”

“I’m not sure I want to be part of… this. Or that the photo studio’s the best place for it. I mean, if your grandfather—”

“Grandpa’s sleeping.” Natsumi blows a strand of hair away from her face with an exasperated sigh. “And given everything that’s happened, and the friends he apparently has, he won’t have anything to say about my… about our family.”

Kaitou sets his sake down, standing up and stretching, trying to keep his face nonchalant. Trying not to care about these three, but that’s a lost cause.

“Daiki.” Yuusuke’s apparently remembered how to speak again, though he’s still lazing comfortably between the other two. His left hand covers Tsukasa’s right; his right hand holds Natsumi’s shirt. “It’ll be fun. A celebration.”

“Not sure I really want to celebrate having Tsukasa around still.” He tilts his head as he stares at Tsukasa.

Tsukasa just snorts. “Do what you want, Kaitou. I’m plenty happy whether you—”

He’s fast. Just as fast as Tsukasa when he wants to be, needs to be, and his hand grips Tsukasa’s chin hard. Holds him in place as he stares into his eyes, meeting his gaze as their lips clash, tongues fumbling over each other, and it’s Natsumi and Yuusuke who break them apart. Natsumi kisses Tsukasa, just as hard and fast as he had; Yuusuke kisses him, and there’s not a gram of malice or dominance in the man, but there is a sheer animalistic need, a vibrant, searching, reaching energy that Kaitou hadn’t expected. Hadn’t been prepared for, and he’s panting from more than emotional overload when Yuusuke finally backs away.

Kaitou grins at Tsukasa, running a hand through his hair, training his breathing back into a semblance of normalcy. “Don’t do that to me, Tsukasa. Don’t ignore me. Don’t dismiss me like I’m one of your stray dogs.”

Not that it really matters all that much.

Not that it hurt him.

Not that he cares about these people, and he doesn’t know how one hand ended up holding Yuusuke close to him or when Natsumi took the other. Certainly isn’t responsible for the way his fingers are clenching hers, as though he’ll lose something important if he lets go.

Yuusuke nuzzles against his neck, teeth barely brushing the skin in a tantalizing caress. “It’s all right, Kaitou. We’re all here.”

“We’re all alive.” Natsumi draws Tsukasa tighter into the circle, and Tsukasa has one hand on her, one on Yuusuke. Sandwiching Yuusuke and Natsumi between Kaitou and Tsukasa, and it feels far too warm, far too safe, far too right. “We’re all together.”

“So no fighting.” Teeth digging just slightly deeper, Yuusuke breathes the warning against his neck. “No need to. No fighting. Just… celebrating. Being alive. Being here.”

Being alive. Like Yuusuke hadn’t been, like Tsukasa hadn’t been, and he doesn’t want to lose these people.

Heaven help him, but he really doesn’t want to lose these people.

Tsukasa’s kiss is almost gentle as he leans forward, hesitating just a second to allow Kaitou to meet his mouth. “A celebration, Kaitou. How’s that sound?”

It sounds like what they’ve been doing for the past few hours.

It sounds like a good way to get himself more attached.

It sounds like a bad idea, to all his instincts that he’s honed since running became his way of life.

But above everything else, it sounds absolutely wonderful.

***

They gather everything in less than sixty seconds, between her and Yuusuke. A few blankets on the ground, condoms and lube from the bathroom, and it’s not gorgeous, but it’ll work. Give them enough room to maneuver, enough warmth, and between the people and the place it’s pretty much damn perfect. Home, with the impossible reality of all four of them back here again, and her hand trembles as she drags Tsukasa down into a fierce kiss.

He meets her passion with his own, eyes bright, eager, though when they break apart there’s a softness to his smile that he reserves just for her. A tenderness, a gentleness, an impossible promise to protect, and she loves it because it’s him, and it’s his for her. Even if what she wants right now isn’t gentle.

She has him pinned to the ground and her hands up his shirt before he’s really aware of what’s going on. It shows in the way he stiffens, the way his smile fades and is replaced by annoyance. A cat that got thrown in the bathtub, a part of her says, and she laughs shakily as her hands quest over his skin.

Over the firm tenseness of his abdominal muscles, present but not sculpted. Over the ridge of his ribs, one hand on either side of his chest, and her fingers are steady, applying pressure. Digging into his skin, though she’s careful not to use her nails yet, and her hands trace along the edge of his ribs until they meet. Slide slowly down his stomach again, from his sternum to the edge of his pants, and she finally lets out a long, shaky sigh.

No scar. Nothing.

As though it never happened, her sword running through him, red red red with blood, and—

“Natsumikan.” The annoyance has faded from his expression, and his touch is ridiculously, infuriatingly gentle as it slides along her cheek, along her chin.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice doesn’t break, doesn’t even crack. Doesn’t even sound sorry, really, because she’s not. Not for what happened before, and not for needing this now, though before still aches deep in her own chest and now is obviously far too good to be true. “I just needed…”

Yuusuke’s hand takes hers, guides it up Tsukasa’s chest again, under his shirt, up further, higher, until he settles it with unerring accuracy over Tsukasa’s heart. His lips graze her neck, soft and sure. “It’s all right, Natsumi-chan.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, all of her fingers pressed hard against Tsukasa’s chest. Feeling his heart, so firm and steady, seeming completely unaware that it shouldn’t be beating. That it was a sacrifice, a price that others were willing to pay for all the universes to live, but not her.

Not Yuusuke.

Not Daiki.

It’s cruel, whispered in his voice, and she draws a deep breath and opens her eyes. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about what came earlier, especially not with Daiki’s fiery presence lurking on the edge of the group, always debating running or staying.

“Daiki…” She reaches toward him, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the blanket, watching them with his head propped on his fists.

“Don’t worry about me, Natsumelon.” He grins at her, his sharp trickster’s grin that says he’s doing all right, come heaven or hell or everything between. “Continue. I’ll join in when I feel like it.”

She doesn’t need a second invitation. Her hands are already on Tsukasa’s bare chest, her legs straddling him, and it’s a frighteningly simple matter to lose herself in him. Her nails dig into his skin, just lightly, and start to rake down; leaning forward, she obliterates the space between them, catching his lips with hers.

He teases her, eyes glinting with a mischievous light, mouth staying cautious and closed as she probes it with her own. Her lips crush against his, forceful, determined, needing to claim him, feel him, know him; her tongue slips out, traces the contours of first his upper and then his lower lip before running over his teeth. Testing, tempting, and she manages to gentle the kiss. Questing, questioning, and he finally opens his mouth to her.

It’s wonderful. Not fireworks, not fantasy, nothing but their two bodies together, exploring each other, and she sighs into his mouth as his arms come around and hold her.

Chastely, sitting perfectly in the center of her back, hands still, and she gives a little sigh of frustration, rocking her hips against him. She’s not in the right position for it to be infuriating to him, though, and his arms lock around and hold her in place when she tries to move.

“Tsukasa…” She breathes his name, tracing his eyebrows with her fingertips. “You’re making this difficult.”

“I know.” He grins at her, a mixture of his usual aristocratic smirk and his for-her gentle smile. “When a girl tries to pin him to the floor, a guy has to—hey.”

Tsukasa arches under her, a shiver running the length of his body.

“Tsukasa…” Yuusuke’s voice is low, almost dark, and she wishes she could see his face. But she can feel his warmth, pressed against her side, and the tenseness of his arm as he continues to stroke his fingers over Tsukasa’s crotch, bumping against her legs in a steady rhythm. “Sometimes, Tsukasa, you should just let your friends enjoy having you. No games. No… posturing. Just us.”

He doesn’t say please, just like he doesn’t say past. He doesn’t have to. It rings in the air, drips from the words, and she doesn’t have to see his face to know that he needs them.

She doesn’t have to ask Tsukasa to let her go. His arms drop away as soon as she leans back, and she draws Yuusuke forward. Hugs him tight to her, her left arm around his hunched shoulders, and his eyes are squeezed tightly closed but he’s not crying.

She doesn’t let Tsukasa sit up. He doesn’t need to. But she does let Tsukasa help her get his shirt off, because doing it one-handed proves to be too difficult.

Kissing Yuusuke’s mouth is different from kissing Tsukasa. More open, more inviting, and she teases at his lips with the gentlest touches for a moment. Too long a moment, because he pulls her tighter to him, deepens the kiss. There is passion here, too, burning slower but no less strong for that; passion and heat, both figurative and literal. Just a small thing, a tiny difference between Yuusuke’s normal temperature and that of most people, but enough to be noticeable as his breath mingles with hers.

A half-smile, a trail of kisses down his neck, and some of the tension leaves his body. Enough that it’s easy to guide him down, rest his head against Tsukasa’s chest; but that’s not all he needs, not after what happened to him, and she guides his right hand up to his own chest. Peels his jacket off him, tossing it away, and slips their hands under his shirt, until she’s pressing his hand against his own heartbeat.

I killed him for you.

She doesn’t say it, as she leans protectively over Yuusuke, her legs clamping tight around Tsukasa. It’s not true, not entirely, and it’s not the type of thing Yuusuke would want to know. Not ever, really, but definitely not now.

Alive.

They’re both alive, and there’s no need to hurt like this right now.

“Help me with this, Yuusuke?” She trails the fingers of her free hand through his hair, brushing over Tsukasa’s hand where it lies on Yuusuke’s shoulder. Tsukasa’s fingers are tight, possessive, his mouth drawn down into a hard line.

A murderer in pink armor, fingers gingerly holding a singed card by the edges.

There’s more ferocity than she intended as she scrapes her nails down Tsukasa’s stomach, but he seems to enjoy it, gasping and bucking against her again. Yuusuke raises his head with a shy, sly smile, sliding forward and kissing Tsukasa soundly.

So much of Tsukasa to explore, and she slides back slowly, until she’s straddling his crotch. He tries to say something, but Yuusuke cuts the words off with another kiss.

Better this way, for now. There’ll be time for words later, when things aren’t so raw between them, when they’ve reaffirmed that everything’s going to be fine.

She keeps her hands below Tsukasa’s rib cage, leaving everything above it to Yuusuke’s careful, creative ministrations. Her hands slide along the edge of Tsukasa’s jeans, and she rocks, slowly, forward and back. Traces small patterns with her nails—up his stomach, along the curve of his ribs, down his sides, down to his ridiculously small butt, around the outside, and then gently trailing up the inside of his legs. Circles, bars, horns, symbols of warriors, and she rocks against him again.

Hands slide around her stomach, fingers deftly slipping between the fabric of her shirt and her skin, and she shivers as Daiki’s hands start an exploration of their own. Trailing up her sides, dancing across her back, and she doesn’t realize what he’s after until her bra suddenly hangs loose.

He peels her shirt off her slowly, an inch at a time, not touching her at all as he does. She lets out a frustrated growl.

“You’re beautiful, Natsumikan.” Tsukasa says it, stating the words as though they were simple objective truth, and she realizes that both he and Yuusuke are watching her. Daiki probably is, too, but he’s hiding just on the periphery of her vision, maintaining his control of the situation.

All right, then. Let them enjoy watching for a moment.

She closes her eyes, working with Kaitou as much as she can, dragging one arm out of her shirt in a slow lazy arc and then the other. Her nipples are already firm, taut, from desire and the nip of the air and the hundred other emotions that keep trying to intervene.

Grabbing Daiki’s left hand, she brings it gently over to her breast.

He gasps, a sound that he drowns a moment later in soft laughter. “This is what you want, Natsumelon?”

“Yes, Daiki.” Her three Riders, her three amazing men, even if they’re all scarred in different ways now. “Please.”

Tsukasa pouts up at her. “I thought this was a celebration for me.”

Kissing him again, Yuusuke trails a hand along Tsukasa’s jaw. “Don’t worry, Tsukasa. We won’t forget about you.”

Daiki’s fingers are deft, quick, and very, very talented as they dance across her breasts, her throat, her stomach, teasing, pinching, tensing, stroking, and she lets out a soft mew of pleasure and rocks against Tsukasa.

Tsukasa’s response is equally unintelligible, trailing off only to rise in pleasure again, and it’s obvious that what Yuusuke lacks in skill he makes up for in sheer determination.

“I think you guys still have far too much clothing on.” Kaitou whispers the words in her ear as his hands suddenly dip down, running between the edge of her tights and her body.

She agrees with him, nodding vigorously and arching to help him get his fingers in the right position to undo the buttons on her skirt. Her own fingers start fumbling with the button on Tsukasa’s skin-tight jeans, and though it takes her longer than it should she manages to get the ridiculous thing undone.

There’s an awkward moment, a shuffling of people as Yuusuke and Daiki help her and Tsukasa out of the rest of their clothes, and then she’s straddling Tsukasa again, hands resting on his hips as she stares at his partially-erect penis.

Kaitou’s hand grabs hers, guiding it down to cup Tsukasa’s testicles. Tsukasa moans, a sound that changes tone as Yuusuke kisses his neck, and his shaft stiffens a little more.

“He likes that.” Kaitou’s hand leaves hers, running down the length of the underside of Tsukasa’s penis. His voice is low and amused in her ear, completely in control. “But are you enjoying this, Natsumelon?”

Just a quick turn of his hand, a brush of his fingers, but they hit just the right spot, dancing teasingly between her legs for a brief second before returning to Tsukasa. A bolt of pleasure shoots up her spine, and with a sharp gasp she arches forward.

“Oh, not yet, Natsumelon.”

“You’re right.” Her voice is breathy, her words coming in a tight pant as she turns her head to look at Kaitou, but she manages to smile. “Not until you and Yuusuke have your clothes off, too. All the way.”

Daiki pouts at her, hand pulling away.

“Please, Daiki.” Her right hand she continues to use to stroke Tsukasa’s shaft; her left she reaches toward Kaitou, though she doesn’t actually grab him. Forcing Daiki to do something was the best way to make him run.

With a long-suffering sigh, Daiki starts divesting himself of his shirt. He does it belligerently at first, quick movements, the clothing always in front of his body, and she sighs in frustration.

Turning to Yuusuke, sitting quietly by Tsukasa’s head, she smiles. “You, too, Yuusuke. And maybe you can show the little thief what the point of it is.”

Yuusuke returns her grin, though there’s a hint of tension around his eyes and mouth again that she wishes she could kiss away. Will kiss away, in a few moments, or Tsukasa will, but she knows in her gut that the haunted hurt will return as soon as they’re not paying attention again.

It disappears as he strips for her, though. Awkwardly at first, like he always is, because he, like her, was raised to find things like this awkward. But there’s a part of Yuusuke that’s always liked showing off—not just for pride’s sake, but for the enjoyment of others. And she shows him her appreciation, batting Tsukasa’s frustrated hands away when they try to continue before she’s ready.

Yuusuke is gorgeous. Not like Tsukasa, tall and ridiculously self-assured, projecting self-confidence in every gesture and look he gives, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s well-muscled, a fighter’s muscles, but denser than either Tsukasa or Kaitou. Denser, tauter than they had been before, and she barely stops herself from frowning. Has he changed, since he came back? Is it Kuuga, or the process of dying, or something else?

But she can worry about that later, because her hesitancy has caused him to pause, underwear the only thing on. “Come on, Yuusuke.” Trailing her nails across Tsukasa’s neck in a move that’s sure to infuriate him, she shares a grin with Yuusuke. “Keep going, or we might lose Tsukasa’s attention.”

“Natsumi…”

Yuusuke actually laughs at Tsukasa's frustrated cry, grinning as he slips out of the last of his clothing. Natsumi’s voice is joining with his when hands wrap around her unexpectedly, pulling her off of Tsukasa and hard against a very male body.

Her first instinct is to fight, and her elbow’s in the process of diving toward Kaitou’s nose when she realizes who it is.

“Do not.” His teeth nip her neck, his fingers are tight and possessive around her stomach, and there’s a tremble of emotion through his whole body. “Do not ignore me, Hikari Natsumi.”

“I won’t.” She twists in his arms, forcing him to loosen his hold. Trailing her hands down both sides of his face, she kisses him soundly, staring straight into his dark brown eyes the whole time. “I never will, Kaitou. Not unless you’re playing games with me.”

Tsukasa’s hands, recognizable the moment they touch her skin, wrap around her from behind, linking above and below Kaitou’s. Pulling her gently, inexorably back to him, and the thief and the ex-warlord stare each other down for long moments. She can’t read all of Kaitou’s emotions—his expressions fly by too fast, too subtle, and every time she thinks she sees something, fear or sorrow or a quick flash of anger, it’s followed by amusement, or disdain, or simple nonchalance that may or may not be true.

“It’s Tsukasa’s celebration.” She places her hands on Kaitou’s arms, moving them slowly but surely. Eventually she’s clasping his wrists together in front of her. “So he gets played with first. But I’m not going to forget you or ignore you. I promise.”

He waits a second before nodding, expression serious, though as soon as that’s done his face breaks again into his trickster’s grin. “You couldn’t forget me if you tried, Natsumelon. Promise.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Turning around, she faces Tsukasa. Kissing him, she gently pushes back, until he’s lying down again with her on top of him. Her fingers tease his ears, his neck, work their way down his chest, around his abdomen, until finally they’re back stroking his tense penis.

“Natsumikan…” Tsukasa’s hands grab hers, stopping her fingers. His voice is tight, strained. “You can be really cruel, you know?”

Sliding back further onto his legs, she trails a hand along the inside of each long limb, teasing at his testicles with the lightest touch of her fingertips when she reaches that high. “I’ll make it worth your effort. I promise.”

His eyes close and he arches, just slightly.

Daiki’s left hand closes over Tsukasa’s rigid shaft, caressing it roughly; his right snakes around her waist, sliding her back up until she’s sitting poised just in front of Tsukasa’s penis. Daiki’s warmth covers her entire left side; Tsukasa is ridiculously warm beneath her; and she wants this.

With one more minor, annoying adjustment, but the last thing she wants to do right now is end up pregnant. “Condom, Daiki. Tsukasa. Please.”

It’s Yuusuke who fulfills the request, sighing and moving in while Daiki and Tsukasa stare at each other, practically daring each other to be the one to move. Sitting on her right side, opposite Daiki, he slides a hand along her face and kisses her gently once he’s done. Ridiculously gently, as though afraid that she might break—or he might break. “Keep them busy, Natsumi-chan. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She almost asks where he’s going, what’s wrong—though she knows what’s wrong, they all know what’s wrong, that’s the monster they’re trying to drown and bury and forget in the feel of each other’s skin.

But then Daiki’s teeth nip her neck, and though the pressure is sure he’s shaking still. Just a minute, small thing, but it’s enough to get her to lift her left hand off Tsukasa and rest it on Daiki’s thigh. His shaft is getting hard, too, and she strokes it briefly before smiling at him.

The smile is met by one of his own, and his fingers tease her again, down between her legs, before he gently guides her onto the tip of Tsukasa’s now condom-covered shaft.

She sighs, rising up to make things easier, and rocks slowly back and forth. Easing him into her, eyes closing, letting instinct and Daiki guide her.

It feels right. It feels wonderfully, amazingly right, Tsukasa inside her, Daiki beside her. She whimpers, pleased, and moves her hips harder. All of him. She will have all of Tsukasa, and then there won’t be any chance of his disappearing.

Never a chance of losing him again, and her grip on his chest is too tight. She knows that, knows she will leave bruises, that her nails are digging in hard enough to draw blood, but she can’t make them loosen. Doesn’t want to make them loosen, and Tsukasa’s hands are just as crushingly tight on her hips.

They find each other’s rhythm quickly, easily, and she guides their motions. Riding her Rider, the small part of her that’s not lost in the fire that is Tsukasa thinks, and she laughs breathlessly.

She knows him, better than she should, better than she has any right to, and he knows her. Knows how to hold her, how to move with her, how to let her guide him to hit just the right spots…

She doesn’t notice the second set of hands for nearly a minute, which is an unforgiveable sin, but given the circumstances she supposes she shouldn’t be too hard on herself. They have a different texture than Tsukasa’s, harder and more calloused; but they touch more softly, spring about more lithely, and perhaps that gentle touch is why it takes her a bit to notice they are present.

They don’t interfere with her and Tsukasa’s movements, for which she is grateful. They merely add a countermelody to the dance, sliding from her stomach around to her hips and down to her buttocks. Caressing in gentle circles, moving closer and closer to a central point, and she realizes what he’s going to do a split second before his lube-coated finger slides into her back door.

She shivers and moans, breaking stride with Tsukasa, who bites out a half-intelligible sentence that may have been something like, “Damn it, Kaitou.”

If the thief notices, he doesn’t care. Just slides his finger in, slowly, carefully, almost infuriatingly gently. He waits until she’s responding, moving with him, before slipping in the second finger. There’s another period of waiting, and Tsukasa’s definitely cursing the thief as she shifts, no longer in rhythm with him, waiting for Kaitou to finish.

Which he finally does, his shaft sliding into her in one deft move, and she groans, pressing hard against Tsukasa. Holding Tsukasa tight, her nails digging into him again, and his teeth are possessive on her lips as he eases her back into their rhythm. Kaitou joins them, finds their rhythm without any difficulty, his teeth biting down hard on her shoulder as he does.

She clings to Tsukasa, and Tsukasa clings to her, and Daiki’s strong and steady and warm and solid, wonderfully solid above her, Tsukasa alive and breathing and panting beneath her, and she can tell Daiki’s hands from Tsukasa’s though they both feel so absolutely fantastic and—

She whimpers, low and pleased and utterly content as the two of them bring her to climax. Or she brings them to climax.

As they bring each other to that apex of pleasure, Tsukasa first, and then her, and then Daiki.

For several long seconds they simply lay there, content to be together. Content to feel each other’s hearts, beating strong and true; content to feel each other’s warmth, a balm against the nip of the night air.

It’s Daiki who moves first, rolling off of her with a groan. He doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at her, and he keeps his hand on her arm. Coming from him, it’s worth a thousand declarations of love.

Probably more truthful than any declarations of love he would give, anyway.

“Natsumikan.” Tsukasa draws her attention back to him, his hand stroking her hair away from her face. Wrapping both arms around her, he pulls her down flush against him again, his lips findings hers. “You’re fantastic.”

“I know.” Stretching out on top of him, wiggling to try to find the most comfortable spot, she grins. Her fingertips play across his face, memorizing every facet of it, etching it into her soul. “You’re pretty good yourself. Both of you are.”

“Of course I am.” Kaitou’s voice purrs the words.

“We all are.” Tsukasa’s arms tighten, just briefly, and sorrow flashes across his face. Joy follows it, though; a calm joy, a contented joy, but a deep joy nonetheless. “Aren’t we, Yuusuke?”

There’s no answer, and Natsumi looks up guiltily. How had she managed to forget about the missing member of their group? How had she managed to feel warm without that little extra burn of heat, safe without that ridiculous protective instinct hovering at her side?

He hasn’t gone far. Just to the edge of the blankets, up against the couch, and he looks almost normal—well, as normal as a naked man in the middle of their living room could look. His knees are drawn up, and his arms are wrapped around them, but it could just be a comfortable resting position. It could just be Yuusuke being his usual patient self, not wanting to interfere where he’s not needed, wielding self-sacrifice like it came to him instinctively.

It could be. It maybe even started out like that.

But it’s not that entirely, because she’s seen that empty look in his eyes before.

It’s the look he wore after. The distance he protected himself with the night after he lost control, attacking Tsukasa without provocation, and the distance she lost him to with the rise of dawn the next day.

She’ll be damned before she loses him to it again.

***

They merge together, one into another, and he stays back, letting the others find their places. Letting Kaitou claim his place, because if the thief feels comfortable and happy enough to join in, that’s something Yuusuke doesn’t want to interfere with.

Besides, it’s safer if he doesn’t get involved.

Better if he can pull himself away, pull himself back, because what Tsukasa and Natsumi had been doing before made it hard to think. Their fingers, their lips, their want and need, burned through everything they did, and called to something deep inside him. Something alien, something old, something that is and isn’t him, and he hates the monster lurking within him.

Hates it, like he’s never hated anything before, because it made him hurt Tsukasa. It made Tsukasa hurt him, branded them both with the memory of blood and fire, and he shivers, shoving the images from his mind.

It’s over.

They’re alive.

That’s all he has to think on now. That was Natsumi’s gift to him, when Tsukasa’s arrogance pierced through the simple joy of having him back and made things hurt again. All he has to do is focus on that, on those two heartbeats—four heartbeats, though Natsumi and Kaitou never died—and everything’s going to be all right.

Despite everything, despite the fact that he died, that Tsukasa hacked him to pieces and let him burn in fire rather than die with him, everything’s going to be all right.

“Yuusuke?”

Natsumi’s hand settles gently on his shoulder. When he looks at her she smiles, and her hand trails its way up to cup his cheek. “Ten yen for your thoughts?”

Kaitou snorts, breaking some of the tension in the room. “You’d be way overpaying there, Natsumelon.”

“I’m all right, Natsumi-chan.” Ignoring Kaitou, Yuusuke takes her hand and returns her smile with a bright one of his own. And if it feels slightly forced, he just hopes that she can’t tell. “Just tired.”

She hesitates for a second, not believing him. “If you’re sure. Did you want—?”

There’s no need to complete the sentence for the meaning to be clear. Does he want them to take him? Does he want to take them?

Fifteen minutes ago the answer would have been yes. Now, though…

Tsukasa doesn’t ask. He just moves in, suddenly far too close, and pulls Yuusuke’s head towards his own.

His lips are warm, firm, slightly swollen from all that Natsumi has done to him. Yuusuke finds himself leaning into the kiss, his own arms going around Tsukasa. Clinging to the physical proof that they won, that they’re alive, and he won’t think of fire—

Except there is fire inside him, crawling through his belly as Tsukasa’s fingers dance lightly over his stomach, and he pulls back with a gasp of dismay. His hand grabs Tsukasa’s, holds the man’s wrist in an iron-tight grip. It’s a few seconds before he can speak, his breath coming in quick panting gasps. “Don’t. Please.”

“Why?” Tsukasa speaks the word lazily, staring into Yuusuke’s eyes. “You like being touched there.”

“Just don’t.” Don’t make him think of fire. Don’t make him think of Kuuga.

Don’t wake Kuuga more than it already is.

“You’re afraid, Yuusuke.” There’s no judgment in Tsukasa’s tone. Just a simple statement, but Yuusuke can feel his cheeks flush with shame and denial anyway. “Afraid of me?”

“No.” It’s true, mostly. “I’m not afraid.”

“A coward and a liar.” Tsukasa pulls his hand away, one brief, fast movement. “Something went wrong when they brought you back, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t want to. But he hates the smug look on Tsukasa’s face, the slight smile that says Tsukasa’s in control of everything, and that hatred rises up from his chest in a low growl. Spreads through his stomach as hot wildfire, trailing down all his nerves, and Kuuga is ready for this fight.

Tsukasa doesn’t resist being pinned beneath him, each wrist caught in one of Yuusuke’s hands. Tsukasa’s expression doesn’t change at all, but as the rush of anger fades Yuusuke can see the way his eyes are drawn together, the tautness of his jaw, and he recognizes the sorrow and sadness lurking behind the mocking smile.

“Yuusuke! Yuusuke, it’s all right. Please, Yuusuke, don’t…” It’s Natsumi’s hands, on his shoulders, her weight against his back, her breasts pressed against his side. “Yuusuke?”

“I’m sorry.” The words are thick in his throat, hard to get out. He tries to wrench himself away, to pull back, but Tsukasa’s hands somehow grab his wrists and Natsumi’s weight against his side means he can’t struggle too much. “Tsukasa, I’m sorry…”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Yuusuke.” Tsukasa talks to a spot on the ceiling, somewhere to the right of Yuusuke’s head. Somewhere that there’s no chance of meeting either Yuusuke or Natsumi’s gaze by accident. “I tried to leave you out of it. But you just kept coming after me. And I didn’t want to die. I thought… I would rather kill anyone than die. It was even easier, because I just had to not die with you rather than actually… do it. But I was wrong. Some things are worse than dying.”

Tsukasa doesn’t cry. Tsukasa never cries. But the sorrow on his face is as real as tears.

“I forced you to do it.” Yuusuke doesn’t meet Tsukasa’s eyes, either. It’s easier to look at Tsukasa’s chest—unmarked, unblemished, recreated without a scar from their wishes and memories—than it is to look in his eyes. “It was my fault. I wasn’t… I let them use me again. Let them use Kuuga again. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Natsumi turns his head, firmly but tenderly, until he’s forced to meet her eyes. “You aren’t responsible for what Kivala did. Or what Tsukasa did. And it doesn’t matter anymore, Yuusuke. We made it right. All of us. We fixed it. So please… stop hurting.”

“Right.” He smiles at her, and why is it so hard to smile honestly now? Why do his eyes keep wanting to drop away, to refuse to meet anyone else’s? “It’s over now. This is a celebration.”

“So celebrate.” Kaitou’s hands are rough as they grab his chin, force his face to the other side, and the thief kisses him fiercely. “We all have things we wish we hadn’t done in our pasts. It’s not that big a deal.”

“You don’t need to be afraid, Yuusuke.” Tsukasa’s hands settle on his hips, a feather-light touch. The smile that Tsukasa gives him is confident and self-assured, a counterpoint to the hesitancy of his touch. “None of us have to be afraid anymore, and it suits you least of all.”

“Tsukasa…” Bending down, he kisses the other Rider soundly on the mouth. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.” The self-assured smile stays, but Tsukasa’s eyes narrow, taking on a mischievous glint. “Want to see how good?”

He isn’t expecting Tsukasa to flip him over. It’s a smooth, graceful movement, like most of what Tsukasa does, and before he has a chance to react Tsukasa’s on top of him, fingers curling into his hair, head bending down, and—

He doesn’t mean to struggle. He doesn’t mean to whimper, or growl, or whatever sound it is that starts in the fire that still burns in his mind and joins with the fire that he can’t get rid of in his gut and claws its way out of his throat.

He’s not even sure what it means, whether it’s a sign of fear or arousal or aggression or some twisted, bitter combination of the three.

But Tsukasa and Natsumi understand better than he can, and before he can hurt anyone they have him sitting him, their arms wrapped around him.

Not that he’s all that good at hurting people. Hell, he can’t even succeed at murder-suicide.

And that’s enough. Really, truly, more than enough, and he grits his teeth and closes his eyes, snarling again. He isn’t like this. He wasn’t like this, before, and he’ll be damned before he lets the cursed-blessed bastards who did what they had to in order to save all the worlds add his smile to the list of casualties.

Especially not when Tsukasa likes his smile.

Neither Natsumi nor Tsukasa move as he draws a deep breath and lets it out in an even deeper sigh. They just watch him, waiting for him to tell them what he needs.

Taking Tsukasa’s right hand, Yuusuke presses it against his heart. His own hand lingers over Tsukasa’s heart for just a moment, and he smiles at the other Rider.

They’re both alive. Natsumi’s right. Next to that, nothing else matters.

Taking Natsumi’s left hand, he kisses her palm before settling it over the pulsing, bright warmth of Kuuga. He shivers, holds his breath for a moment, and then smiles at her again, no longer having to fight to make the expression look true. There’s fire here, yes, but it’s his fire. His power, that he can control, and it’s not something he will let them taint.

Not Fourteen.

Not DaiShocker.

Not the heroes, either.

Kaitou’s arms wrap around Yuusuke from behind, his hands groping until one presses against Natsumi’s hand and one against Tsukasa’s. Leaning back, Yuusuke smiles and, for what feels like the first time since the whole nightmare of the Rider War started, finally relaxes.

They stay there for over a minute, huddled together. Completing each other, safe and secure in each other’s company, and it’s good to have the moment of quiet peace. But eventually Kaitou nibbles on his ear. Natsumi shifts, pressing unexpectedly against the amadam, and Yuusuke finds himself arching into the touch.

Riding the waves of fire running through him instead of fighting them, and he reaches for Tsukasa, for Natsumi, presses back against Kaitou.

“A celebration.” Tsukasa whispers the words as he leans in and steals a brief, fierce kiss. The sorrow is gone from his eyes, replaced by satisfaction, contentment, and a bright possessiveness all his own.

“Right.” Grinning, Yuusuke kisses Natsumi while holding Kaitou’s hand tight against the amadam. “A celebration with the best presents ever.”

“Between Natsumikan and that smile of yours…” Tsukasa’s hand trails through Yuusuke’s hair. “I’d have to agree.”

“And Kaitou.” Yuusuke tilts his head to the side, giving Kaitou better access to his neck. Finding words amid the fire is getting harder, but these are important. “He’s part of it, Tsukasa.”

“Don’t bother, Yuusuke.” Kaitou whispers the words in his ear. “Tsukasa will be Tsukasa. Let’s just show him what he’s missing, all right?”

Yuusuke doesn’t exactly say yes, but he definitely doesn’t say no, letting the fire carry him away into the arms of his trusted friends.

***

He has Natsumi wrapped in his arms, protected against him. Yuusuke is pressed along his back, one of the man’s arms thrown over Tsukasa’s stomach to lie against Natsumi’s skin. Kaitou’s behind Yuusuke, Tsukasa’s fairly certain, though when the thief fell asleep the arm that had been touching Tsukasa’s back had drifted away.

They’re all going to be sore tomorrow, he’s fairly certain. If not from their acrobatics earlier in the evening, or from the disastrous attempt at cleaning up that somehow resulted in Kaitou dunking Yuusuke in the bath and then Yuusuke dunking Tsukasa with absolutely no justifiable reason, then from the somewhat awkward sleeping positions that they’ve ended up in.

It’s worth it, though. Having Natsumi against him, having Yuusuke alive and near him… it’s worth pretty much any price in the world.

He should sleep. He knows that. There’s no telling what world—what dangers—they’re going to find outside the door tomorrow.

But his mind doesn’t want to stop working. Doesn’t want to sink into the darkness—fights it fiercely, each time, because it feels too much like that.

Like dying.

Besides, there are things he can do when he’s awake that he can’t do when he’s asleep.

Natsumi’s nightmare comes first. The first sign is a tensing of all her muscles, and he tightens his hold on her, pulls her harder against him.

That’s not enough, though. Perhaps she isn’t dreaming of killing him, then, if being held doesn’t interrupt it.

“Tsu…” His name is slurred, broken off, not really intelligible, but he recognizes it none-the-less.

“I’m here.” He whispers the words in her ear, continuing to hold her tight against him. “I’m right here. So sleep, Natsumikan. Just sleep.”

Slowly but surely she settles down, and he continues to whisper soft encouragements in her ear until she’s relaxed and calm in his arms again.

Smiling to himself, he kisses her neck, a soft barely-touch, and goes back to his own fight with sleep.

Not for long, though. Yuusuke’s nightmare hits fast, a sudden tightening of all the man’s muscles, a fierce scrabbling against Tsukasa’s back. It suddenly seems ten degrees warmer in the room, heat pouring off of Yuusuke’s skin like water, and the man’s panting is loud and harsh in Tsukasa’s ear.

“Yuusuke, it’s all right.” Tsukasa speaks with authority. He would take Yuusuke’s shoulders, if he could, but that would involve letting go of Natsumi, and she hasn’t woken yet. If he has to, he will, but he would prefer to let her sleep. “Yuusuke, listen to me. It’s all right. It’s over. I swear it.”

“Over…” Yuusuke mumbles the word. “It’s over…?”

“It’s over. So just sleep, Yuusuke. Sleep and dream of things that fit you better.”

Curling against Tsukasa’s back, arm thrown over Tsukasa to touch Natsumi again, Yuusuke does just that.

Ten or fifteen minutes of silence pass, and Tsukasa’s almost drifting off when Kaitou’s voice breaks the silence. “Does that always happen?”

“Does what always happen?” Tsukasa sounds more disgruntled than he’d intended, but now that the others are sleeping soundly again, Tsukasa feels more like joining them.

“The heat and the thrashing. I think he just about broke my nose. But if we’re pretending nothing happened, then never mind.” Tsukasa doesn’t have to see Kaitou to know the annoyed, frustrated look that goes with that voice.

Sighing, Tsukasa closes his eyes. “Not every time he has a nightmare, no. They just dragged too much of Kuuga to the fore, and Kuuga’s a creature of fire.”

“Oh.” A few beats of silence follow. “Does he have nightmares often?”

“Often enough.”

“I suppose we all do.” Kaitou’s hand brushes against Tsukasa’s back for a moment before retreating. Judging from the angle, the thief had been trying to hug Yuusuke.

“Nightmares mean memories.” Nuzzling Natsumi’s neck, Tsukasa pauses to enjoy the warmth and comfort of having these two Riders beside him. “Memories mean we’re alive. They can get annoying, though.”

“I’ll bet.” Kaitou’s voice trails off. “You really care about them, though. I mean, the way you handled that… the fact that you’re still awake. You really love them.”

“They’re important.” Putting words to the way he feels about Natsumi, about Yuusuke, has never been anything Tsukasa felt the need to do. They are his, and he will keep them with him.

“Do they know what to do with you, when you have nightmares?”

“I don’t have nightmares, Kaitou.”

“No? Heh. Of course not. Tsukasa could never be afraid of anything. Tsukasa could never regret anything. Tsukasa could never simply wish something hadn’t happened.”

There’s really nothing worth replying to in that, so Tsukasa just ignores Kaitou. It’s the worst punishment he can give the thief usually, anyway.

“You can be very annoying. You know that, right?” Kaitou’s hand brushes him again, locks onto his arm and holds on tight. “Did you stay up because you thought they’d need you, or something else?”

“Does it matter?”

“It…” The sentence trails off. “No. I suppose not.”

Silence descends again, but it’s a palpable, waiting silence.

“I won’t ask you if you’d help me, if I had nightmares. Which I don’t.” Kaitou’s fingers clench hard on Tsukasa’s arm for a moment. “And you really can be impossible to work with. But… I’m glad you’re back, Tsukasa. And I’m glad that I wasn’t the one who killed you.”

There are many conversations they could have about that—many that they maybe should have, in the future. About staring down the barrel of DienDriver, about the scarcity of Kaitou once that shot had failed, about the betrayals and hopes and hesitancies that made the Rider War such an awful, hateful thing…

But they’re not something that Tsukasa wants to get into right now. Today is still technically his day of celebration—or, rather, the second day of the celebration, but Natsumi had definitely giggled that they were celebrating him during this twenty-four-hour period.

“Just go to sleep, Kaitou.” Just this once, just today, the words sound harsh. Too harsh, and after the briefest of hesitations Tsukasa softens them. “And have good dreams.”

“Yeah.” Kaitou’s hand squeezes his arm, just briefly, before letting go entirely. “You, too, Tsukasa.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

Kaitou doesn’t have nightmares, so Tsukasa and Yuusuke don’t have to talk him out of one a few hours later.

And Tsukasa doesn’t have nightmares, so it’s not fear or sorrow or bitter regret that has his heart racing when the others pull him from dreams into the bright light of late morning.

But Tsukasa would never deny the simple, perfect rightness of having the three of them there to hold him as he gets his composure back.

Whatever else may come at them in the days ahead, they’ve had their celebration.

And even if it hasn’t made everything right, it’s at least made it infinitely, wonderfully better.


End file.
